A Mother’s Day Reflection

Looking back on my motherhood journey, I am consistently amazed at the power that mothering holds. 

When I had my daughter, I thought, I can do this. I’m the eldest daughter, I practically raised my younger siblings. I was willfully ignorant to the work and sacrifice that motherhood entailed. 

I had the opportunity to choose to have my child, to become a mother, and to have a birthing process at an incredible hospital.

And still, I would quickly learn that the healthcare system wasn’t built or equipped to protect Black mothers. 

At the time, I had my own mama to advocate for me in that hospital room. A mother of four who learned long before that advocating for a Black mother in the healthcare system was an explicit need, and not a passive choice. 

I think about women like Adriana Smith, a Black woman whose pregnancy continued after she was declared brain dead, raising questions about consent, dignity, and who gets to make decisions about a woman’s body. 

Forced. 
Forced to carry a baby after being declared brain dead. 
Forced because of laws instated by a sexist system designed to remove women’s option to choose. 

Who would mother the child then? 
Who would pay the massive hospital bill left from this lack of choice? 

While my daughter was small, I thought of her safety. Things like making sure the cabinets were closed when she was learning to crawl and walk, making sure the music wasn’t too loud while we were driving, or making sure we kept a simple routine that allowed her to have adequate rest. 

Let me be clear, being a Black woman-identifying person in America comes with an inherent need to be alert, to prepare for anything, and to be ready to defend oneself. 

When we grocery shopped, I thought about making sure she had healthy foods to eat. I can honestly say I never thought about the possibility of losing my life. 

I think about young women like Ta’Kiya Young, a pregnant mother of two, accused of shoplifting in a grocery store and killed by police because of it. 

I think of the brutality and the lack of humanity that officer must have had toward her.

Did this accusation warrant a pregnant person’s life being forcibly taken by those who are sworn to protect us? 
I personally don’t believe so. 

As my daughter grew, I taught her to be conscious of being treated unfairly. To metaphorically stand up for herself and to band with those who were treated as less than. 

I taught my baby to be humble, but strong, to have dignity in who she was, and to treat people the way she wanted to be treated. 

I think about women like Renee Nicole Good, showing up in her community with her wife during immigration enforcement activity. A mother standing against injustice and discrimination. She was killed during ICE enforcement because she wanted everyone to be treated fairly—an ethos I’ve instilled in my daughter. 

After my little girl was old enough to understand the safety measures I’d walked her through, I helped her understand protection. 

I said, if something feels off, call the police.

But by this time, I had to teach her about Sonya Massey, an Illinois mother who was killed by police in her home after calling for help. 

She asked me, why?

And I had to teach my daughter about being a Black woman in America. 

I told stories of police brutality, Black maternal health disparities, the dangers of state violence, and why community solidarity was so important. 

I taught her about the effects of children being left in systems not meant to protect them, caregivers who were now burdened with lives they did not create, and without access or opportunity to thrive. 

I taught my daughter about resilience, grace, resistance, empathy, advocacy, and love. 

We talked through the importance of education and the disinvestment in communities in need. 

We talked about different types of mothers, people like Jessica Bates, a queer person who fought the system about laws preventing LGBTQIA+ people from adopting in Oregon. 

About Grandmothers, Foster Mothers, Community Mothers, Sisters, Aunts, Cousins, and Dads who became moms because of the deaths of their children or loved ones.

At the end of the conversation, she asked, “If all of this is happening, why would anyone want to be a mother?”

I thought for a while before I was able to answer, and said, 

“Because we had a choice. And God willing, if and when you choose, not becoming a mom can still be a choice too.” 

With all the love that motherhood has to offer, I pray more than anything for safety, equity, and peace for you and yours on this beautiful day.

Celebrating all Moms,

Franchelle Brown-Stanford
Manager of Development and Communications

And the staff of Community Renewal Society